Graffiti
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: His smirk grew. “I was labeling my favorite parts. Did you know you’re a very deep sleeper?”


**Author's Comment: I saw two other stories to this prompt, and I just had to jump on board. Couldn't resist. I'm sorry, I don't no where the prompt came from, but I acknowledge it wasn't my idea.**

**B.S.S.**

"Who ate my sandwich?"

Oliver glared around the room. It was a dumb, little thing, but he'd been looking forward to the second half of that sandwich all day, and he'd come to Watchtower only to find it gone. Normally he wouldn't bother, but this was getting to be a habit. His eyes passed automatically over Chloe and Victor, rested on AC a moment, dismissed Dinah, but finally settled on Bart, who was currently stuffing his face with a taco.

"Bart?"

Bart paused, his mouth full, "What?" He looked around him. "Wait, why do you just assume it was me?" he asked.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Dude, don't eat my food."

"Was your name on it?" Chloe piped up. "Because I'm pretty sure that just makes it free reign otherwise." She smirked at him and Oliver just glowered.

"Don't touch my food, Bart."

* * *

"Drop the weapons!" A bow and several arrows clattered to the ground and Oliver stormed over to Victor, who looked mildly alarmed.

"Dude, I was just looking to see how the new compound bow is coming along."

"What is it today with everyone touching my things?" he asked, tapping Victor lightly on the head in punishment.

He wasn't seriously angry, just getting annoyed.

"Relax, Ollie," came Chloe's voice yet again. "He didn't know it would bother you. It's not like there was some big warning sign that said 'DO NOT TOUCH' or anything."

"You stay outa this," he said flippantly.

"Child," she rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Okay, seriously, I've had enough," Oliver grumbled.

"I'm sorry, what are you griping about now?" Chloe asked, turning to Oliver in surprise.

"We're leaving."

"What?"

"I'll get your coat."

"I thought you wanted me to keep working Bruce over."

"That was when he was the one being worked over," Oliver replied irritably.

Chloe blushed but laughed at him. "Oh get over it. I'm a big girl."

"He's a creep."

"You said he was a good friend at the beginning of the evening."

"That was before he started laying it on so thick. Come on," he said, grabbing her hand.

Chloe got serious now, refusing to go with him. "Look, Oliver. This is important, and anyway has it occurred to you that I may actually be interested in Bruce?"

Oliver stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her. "What?" he demanded.

"I'm single, Oliver, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You don't really get a say in whether or not I let someone flirt with me. You don't own me."

Oliver looked extremely displeased. He hadn't been thinking of it that way. He just automatically got defensive when around Chloe. He didn't like anyone looking at her the wrong way, and Bruce had definitely been looking at her the wrong way. He let go of her wrist, though, realizing how absurdly territorial that was.

And Chloe was right, she didn't belong to him. Why should he care if a guy gave her a little attention? She certainly deserved it.

He muttered darkly--something that sounded vaguely like an apology--before resigning himself to dealing with it for the rest of the night. After all, Chloe had every right to flirt and be flirted with. He told himself he just didn't like being the third wheel.

* * *

Oliver brought Chloe home, thanking God she had declined Bruce's offer to bring her back, and she asked him up.

He didn't think anything of it. They spent time alone with each other all the time.

Inside, though, Chloe rounded on him with sparks in her eyes. "What was with you today?"

"Hey, I apologized for trying to drag you away from the gala."

"Not just that, Ollie. You've been quibbling over the most stupid little things. Since when are you such a caveman?"

"I'm not," he argued. It was completely untrue, of course. He'd noticed more and more lately that he'd gotten unnecessarily protective of her in particular. Every time men went near her he found himself calculating how many moves it would take him to knock them out cold. With Bruce it would have been three. Five if he had his guard up.

"Yes, you are, and I want to know what that little display this evening was about."

"What? I apologized."

"Not that, Oliver, I mean after that. Would you like to explain to me why you were acting like my husband?"

"What?" She was insane.

"As soon as Bruce got back to us, you were constantly touching me and putting your hand on my waist and ordering my drink for me and a bunch of other absurd little things like you were trying to impress on Bruce that we were a couple."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes you do, and I've got news for you, Oliver Queen: I am yet another item that your name is simply not on. So, I sincerely recommend you back off." She looked daggers at him and Oliver had that 'if looks could kill' feeling.

"Well you shouldn't be so careless. Maybe I wouldn't have to look after you so much if you weren't throwing yourself at dirtbags."

Chloe threw her hands in the air. "It's Bruce Wayne, Oliver! I don't think it gets much more posh than that! Now you're just being thick on purpose!"

Oliver crossed the floor, closing the space between them. "No," he said sourly, "I'm not. I apologize if you think I was cramping your style. I'll be sure to steer clear the next time someone has his hands all over you."

Chloe let out a sound of frustration. "For Heaven's sake! _You_ were the one with his hands all over m--" her words were sharply cut off by Oliver's lips on hers. She shoved him back. "What are you doing?"

"Shut up, Chloe," he muttered, kissing her again. Chloe was shocked at first but the next moment she found herself kissing him right back, her hands scoring through his hair.

His hands traveled down her body, eliciting moans from her. He found himself touching her everywhere and anywhere he could reach, greedy for more of her. Within moments, clothes were being shed and her legs were wrapping around him.

* * *

When Chloe woke the next morning, she found her body was aching all over and she couldn't remember for a moment why. Then images of Oliver on top of her as she called out his name suddenly flooded back to her. She blushed bright red, wondering what had come over them. She shifted slowly in her bed, realizing he was still beside her.

Feeling her move, Oliver sleepily reacted by throwing an arm over her stomach. Awkwardly she reached to prod him awake before she noticed there was writing on her left ring finger. She looked at it in shock, reaching with her other hand to try to wipe it off. The same words were written on the back of her right hand.

"Oliver!" she shouted unceremoniously. She saw him wake and smirk with his eyes still shut. "Why are the words 'Property of Oliver J. Queen' written on my hands?" she demanded of him.

His smirk grew. "I was labeling my favorite parts. Did you know you're a very deep sleeper?"

"Your favorite p--" the whisper died on her lips as she sat up in the bed and saw the words scrawled over her stomach. "Oh my..." she shook her head, eyes growing wider as she discovered that he had 'labeled' half her body. Her ankle, her stomach, her right kneecap..."Oliver!" she shouted, slapping his head and forcing him to open his eyes.

"Hey!"

"You complete neanderthal!" she yelled. "Is this permanent marker?"

He grinned amusedly. "Maybe."

"Oliver! Do you know how long that takes to wash off? I won't be able to go out for weeks!"

"You know, you say that like it's a bad thing."

She threw a pillow at him. "Caveman!"

"Not what you said last night," he teased.

"I'm going to murder you," she threatened, moving to slap the side of his head. He caught her hand easily, using it to pull her to him and kissing her in good humor.

"Nah," he said, "you haven't seen the rest of my artwork yet."

"The rest of..." she trailed off. He slid up in the bed, letting the sheet fall from his chest. Over his heart was still more graffiti. Chloe couldn't help it, she had to laugh.

_Property of Chloe A. Sullivan_

"You're not off the hook," she told him, trying and failing to work herself back up to proper anger.

"I didn't expect to be," he said confidently. "I think--" he kissed her "that we--" he kissed her again "should go wash this off together," a final kiss. "That should help you forgive me."

Chloe pulled away, smirking. "No," she said slowly, climbing off of him. "I think _I_ will go shower. _You_ can stay right here," she said deviously. She walked over to the bathroom shutting the door behind her. He heard the click as she locked it.

Oliver shook his head, flopping back on the pillow and laughing. She'd calm down when it washed off. It had been worth it to see the look on her face. And besides, for the moment he was more or less okay with his temporary tattoo.


End file.
